


Classic

by freosan



Series: FFXV D/sverse [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Ignis's oral fixation, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, boot licking, mouth soaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freosan/pseuds/freosan
Summary: “Fine, fine. Okay, Igster.” Prompto snaps his fingers, drawing Ignis’s eyes up to his face. He’s smiling. Ignis isn’t; he’s not looking forward to what’s about to happen. But he still opens his mouth instantly when Prompto says, “Open up.”





	Classic

They pull up to the Leville hungry, tired, and filthy, but triumphant in the way only two successful hunts can make them. Even Ignis can’t object to them taking a room, not with thousands of gil fresh in their pockets. He doesn’t even argue when Noctis insists they get one of the big suites, with a king-sized bed.

Even that won’t _quite_ fit all of them, but Ignis is looking forward to making the attempt.

He kicks his shoes off just inside the door to the suite, but when Gladio makes to do the same, Noctis reaches up to tug at his collar and says, “No. Go wait for Specs.” So Gladio goes off towards the bed, and Ignis is left in the entryway between Noctis and Prompto, both of whom place their hands on his waist, trapping him there.

“Am I permitted to ask what he’s waiting for, Highness?” Ignis asks.

“Prompto and I were thinking,” Noctis says. Ignis is a head taller than either of them, but when they surround him like this, he invariably feels vulnerable. The curse and blessing of their respective dynamics is that they know it. Noctis’s breath is hot against the back of his neck when he says, “Our boots need a good cleaning.”

Ignis’s stomach twists. What Noctis suggests is something that he wants, very badly, perhaps too much; he’s never successfully completed the task.

“Ooh, I think he’s interested,” Prompto says, his grin wicked. Ignis realizes his mouth is open, and shuts it.

Noctis laughs quietly behind him. “What d’you think, Specs? Want to give it another try?”

“I am always willing to serve in whatever manner you wish,” Ignis says, his tone ironic but his words pure truth. Noctis snorts and reaches around his shoulders to pull his jacket off. Prompto kisses his throat above his collar, his hands already working Ignis’s shirt out of his trousers. Ignis moves as they wish, letting Noctis strip his gloves off, and Prompto unbuckle his belt. They leave him with nothing but his jewelry, and put him down on his knees.

“Come over when you’re ready,” Noctis tells him. Ignis nods, and Noctis strokes his hair as he moves past him to the bed. Prompto gives him a quick pat on the cheek, and then they leave him alone.

When Ignis has composed himself sufficiently, he turns to look. All three of them - Noctis and Prompto sitting side by side on the edge of the bed, Gladio kneeling at Noctis’s right hand - are watching him. His breath catches in his throat.

They didn’t ask him to crawl so he stands and takes the five steps over to the bed, where Noctis is waiting, leaning down with his elbows resting on his spread legs. Ignis folds to his knees and then to the floor in front of Noctis, pressing a kiss to the toe of his boot before he begins his work.

He doesn’t hesitate, this time. The first time they did this, he’d had trouble getting past his inherent revulsion at the idea. Not for the degrading aspects, he’d told himself, but out of simple concern for his health. But he has enough experience now to know that any ill effects can be healed easily enough, and the pleasure of submitting to this extent - of seeing Noctis’s eyes darken with lust as Ignis extends his tongue and licks a long stripe up the red sole of his boot, leaving the lacquered leather clear of dirt - more than outweighs his worries.

Noctis puts his other foot on Ignis’s shoulder as he works, a heavy, pleasant reminder of his place. It leaves him with no other option than to continue, and very little room in his mind to worry about what the others are thinking. If Noctis found him disgusting, well, he would simply take that boot and push him away; if Prompto or Gladio thinks this is too much, Ignis has the excuse that it was Noctis’s will to fall back on.

When he’s finished with the right boot, Noctis nudges his chin up with the toe of it, smiling down at him. Ignis returns a helpless, sappy grin, almost flying on Noctis’s approval. The second boot seems to go faster. He’s still smiling as he works it over, pressing wet kisses to the leather and then laving his tongue over them until it shines.

“Gladio, c’mere,” Noctis says, when Ignis sits back. “Do Prompto next,” he tells Ignis. “Then come back over here for Gladio.”

“Yes, Highness,” Ignis says. He doesn’t stop to watch Gladio settle between Noctis’s legs; he has a job to do, and Prompto is sitting expectantly with his feet out in front of him. Ignis slides as gracefully as he can manage over to the side and drops his head to lap at Prompto’s toe. Prompto likes things done quickly and with a will, so Ignis works up as much spit as he can and covers his boot in long strokes of his tongue.

About halfway through, as Ignis is curled around Prompto’s left boot to get to the heel, he feels Prompto’s other foot settle between his shoulder blades, pushing him down. Ignis is experienced enough not to stop licking, but he doesn’t bother to control the slight twitch of his hips.

“We’ve got him so well trained, Noct,” Prompto sighs. He sounds so purely _pleased_ that Ignis wants to bask in it.

“I think he trained himself,” Noctis replies. He reaches down and strokes Ignis’s hair back from his face, and Ignis pauses, his mouth open over the strap around Prompto’s ankle, for long enough to shiver. Prompto’s heel presses down on his shoulder blade and he hurries to finish off the rest of the dust.

He goes limp under Prompto’s boot when he’s done, uncomfortably curled on the carpet. Prompto shows no sign of letting him move. Ignis has more work to do, but there’s no point in his struggling or second-guessing, not now. He trusts that Noctis will let him serve, and that Prompto is only doing what he can to heighten the experience.

Still, it’s hard to stay where he is when he hears the sound of a zipper being undone. When he twitches, Prompto carefully, slowly puts his other boot on the side of Ignis’s face, pushing him closer to the ground.

“Shh. You’re where we want you,” he says. It lets Ignis close his eyes, even when the rustle of fabric turns into the slick, wet noise of Gladio’s mouth on Noctis’s cock, overlaid with Noctis’s heavy breathing. He stays still, and he stays silent until he can’t anymore, when Noctis curses at some trick of Gladio’s tongue and Ignis whines at the knowledge that he’s not part of Noctis’s pleasure.

Noctis’s breathless laugh reassures him. “Enough already, Gladio, let Specs finish up.”

Prompto’s feet leave Ignis’s body. Gladio is seated between Noctis’s knees when Ignis pulls himself to sitting. His lips are slick with spit, and his head nearly brushes Noctis’s exposed cock. Ignis’s mouth waters, which is a blessing, since it’s gone dry with the dust and grit in it.

For Gladio, this act of Ignis’s submission does nothing, and before, that had been enough for Ignis to shy away from completing it. But now, both of them are part of a performance for Noctis and Prompto’s pleasure. Ignis plays to his dominants’ gaze, opening his mouth wide and stretching his tongue out so they can see all the details.

Gladio sits almost paralyzed, his hands tucked at his sides, until Noct laughs and says, “You can touch him.” Then he leans forward, and Ignis feels his warm, strong hands resting on his shoulder and head. His touch is grounding and reassuring.

He feels a certain pride when Noctis groans at the sight of him running his tongue over the arch of Gladio’s foot. “Hurry up, Ignis,” Noctis says, and Ignis decides it’s time to stop showing off. His pulse is racing as he finishes with Gladio and sits back.

“You can watch,” Noctis tells Gladio. “Don’t whine, you already got a show.”

Gladio moves aside, though he keeps his head draped over Noctis’s thigh, and Noctis lets him. He and Ignis make eye contact for a moment, and Gladio licks his lips, smiling with his eyes half-closed.

Ignis shuffles back between Noctis’s legs, carefully looking up through his lashes. Noctis reaches out to him and strokes his hair. His touch is firm, but not at all rough, and Ignis melts into it. The fabric of Noctis’s pants is warm against his cheek when he rubs his face against it. He smells like four days of road and fighting, but Ignis can never care too much about that after Noctis has put him down. Ignis leans in, watching Noctis’s face, with his mouth open to wrap his lips around Noctis’s cock.

He is so intent on his prize that he doesn’t notice Prompto coming up behind him until Prompto’s hand in his hair stops him short. “Hang on,” Prompto says. “You’re not gonna put that filthy mouth on Noct, are you?”

Ignis looks up at him, wide-eyed and pleading with his mouth still half-open. That was indeed his intention, but now that Prompto has said it, it does seem unthinkable to sully Noctis’s flesh with the dirt he’s licked off their shoes.

“I apologize, Prompto - Highness,” he manages to say.

Noctis shakes his head, eyes gone sharp, and Ignis feels himself dying inside. That little piece of him that is always in control tells him that they’re only toying with him, that he shouldn’t feel shame at anything they say to him, but it’s overwhelmed by the instinct telling him to prostrate himself at Noctis’s feet.

Prompto’s grip is unyielding, and Ignis tugs against it, trying to duck his head again. For his trouble, Prompto strokes his face and tuts at him. “None of that, Iggy. I’m gonna clean you up, and Noct and Gladio are gonna watch, alright?”

He doesn’t need Ignis’s permission, not when he clearly has Noctis’s, but Ignis closes his eyes and bends his head back to expose his throat. Prompto’s hand curls around his neck, fingers spread wide to hold him, but set away from the metal hoop of Ignis’s collar. “You’re pretty like this,” Prompto tells him.

Ignis opens his eyes. Prompto is watching him, grinning in uncomplicated happiness, and Ignis finds himself flushing.

“Even prettier like that,” Prompto says. He kisses the top of Ignis’s head and lets him go. “Let’s go, bathroom. Sooner we get you cleaned up, sooner you can get dirty again, right? Don’t stand up!” he adds, when Ignis makes to get his feet back under him. “No point when I’m just gonna put you right back on your knees.”

Ignis falls forward and crawls on his hands and knees, following Prompto’s shining shoes into the bathroom. The tile is cold on his bare legs but he folds his feet under him and sits up straight, eyes down, waiting. Behind him he hears Noctis step into the doorway.

“Getting creative, huh?” Noctis asks, over Ignis’s head. Ignis wonders if he’s bothered to tuck himself back into his pants; could he simply turn around and take him in his mouth? It’s idle. Ignis wouldn’t risk his, or Prompto’s, displeasure for mere impatience. Still, he _wants_.

Prompto laughs. “Yeah, I guess. I saw we had the bar soap in the bathroom and, you know.” He turns around with said soap in his hand, capturing Ignis’s attention. “I just like the classics?”

Noctis huffs a quiet laugh. “Get started, then.”

“Fine, fine. Okay, Igster.” He snaps his fingers, drawing Ignis’s eyes up to his face. He’s smiling. Ignis isn’t; he’s not looking forward to what’s about to happen. But he still opens his mouth instantly when Prompto says, “Open up.”

Prompto sticks the bar of soap in his mouth. “Hold it,” he says. “Not just in your teeth. Get some spit on it.”

Ignis closes his lips around the soap and tries very hard not to grimace. It’s sour and floral, not the chemical bitterness he’d expected, but it’s not pleasant. Prompto leans back on the vanity and _looks_ at him; Ignis makes a valiant attempt not to flinch, but he does eventually drop his gaze to the floor again.

“He’s taking it pretty well,” Noctis observes.

“‘Course he is,” Prompto says. “Told you we had him trained.”

“Still think it’s him. We trained Gladio too, and he’s not gonna let you stick a bar of soap in his mouth.”

“You’ve got that right, Highness,” Gladio says, from just behind Ignis’s back. He must be down on the floor too, kneeling at Noctis’s side. It feels right; Ignis has missed this, all four of them being right where they belong.

Still, were Ignis not at the center of Noctis and Prompto’s attentions, he’d crawl back into Gladio’s arms right now. He loves that he’s making them happy, but drool is starting to drip out the corners of his mouth, and he’s finding it hard not to gag as the soap starts to bubble. Swallowing it, he knows, would not be a good idea.

“Aw, Iggy.” Prompto’s hand lands in his hair and strokes him a few times. Ignis closes his eyes at the gentle touch. “Get up here, come on. Drop it in the sink.”

Ignis lifts himself up as tall as he can while staying on his knees, leans over the vanity, and opens his mouth to let the soap fall in the sink. He very nearly spits after, but a quick glance at Prompto’s face tells him that _not_ doing so is the better decision. Prompto grins when he stops and steps up behind him, trapping him in place.

With Prompto’s body behind him, Ignis feels safe, protected. He can still see Noctis in the mirror with his dark eyes fixed on Ignis’s face. Gladio, he can’t see, but Noctis is clearly petting his hair somewhere below Ignis’s line of sight. All of them there, all of them watching Ignis’s debasement. Ignis won’t pretend that he isn’t painfully turned on, but there is a pleasure in this that’s more than arousal.

Prompto runs water in the sink and then sticks three damp fingers into Ignis’s mouth, forcing his jaw wide open. Ignis does his absolute best not to swallow or flinch, even when Prompto starts scrubbing. It’s not tender or particularly sexy; Prompto is as quick and efficient as he is with his guns, and Ignis can only close his eyes and let Prompto stick his fingers under his tongue, around his teeth, and so far back in his mouth that he does gag. Even that barely gets him a second of respite.

“Okay, you can spit,” Prompto eventually says. Ignis does, though it’s only through Prompto’s careful aiming of his head that it lands in the sink. He’s _shaking_ , he notices distantly. And he’s leaning back into Prompto’s arms so heavily that Noctis has to come forward and press a glass of water to his lips.

Between the two of them, Prompto’s hands on his shoulders and Noctis’s on the back of his head, they help him rinse his mouth out and slide back to the floor, where he kneels bent forward with his hands on the tiles.

“You’re a mess,” Gladio tells him. Ignis is not quite sure when Gladio got to his side, or why Gladio is holding him, until he finds that Gladio is picking him up. He struggles, until Gladio says, “Relax. Noct and Prompto are getting undressed. You’re gonna get your treat.”

Ignis nods and leans against Gladio’s shoulder, his forehead resting on Gladio’s collar. Gladio doesn’t have to carry him far, at least. He deposits Ignis on the end of the oversized bed, considerately putting him back on his knees, and sits by his side as support. At another time, Ignis might kiss him in gratitude. Just at the moment, all his attention is captured by Noctis and Prompto, entwined naked with each other at the head of the bed.

Prompto pulls away from Noctis’s mouth when he hears the two of them sit down. Noctis has that hazy, longing look in his eyes that Ignis recognizes, but has rarely let himself name, as subspace. But when Prompto nods towards Ignis and Gladio, Noctis comes into focus immediately.

“Up here, Ignis,” he says. Ignis crawls forward on the bed and between Noctis’s legs. Prompto’s hand drops away from Noctis’s cock to land in Ignis’s hair the moment Ignis comes within reach. Noctis reaches out to tug on his collar, and Ignis leans forward, glancing between the two of them. He is, honestly, unsure who has the final say at this stage.

“Go on, Specs. I know you want to,” Noctis says, saving him from his indecision. He sounds a little breathless, and his lips shine just slightly where Prompto has been licking at his mouth. He is irresistible, and so Ignis is glad he no longer has to resist. He takes Noctis in his mouth as deep as he can, until the head of his cock is nudging at the back of his throat, and is rewarded with his dominant’s low groan.

Noctis tastes delicious after the soap, and Ignis wonders vaguely if that was part of Prompto’s aim, but even the analytical piece of his brain is happier now to think of how best to apply himself to the task in front of him. Noctis is heavy and hot on his tongue, and when Ignis sucks hard he moans, slightly muffled against Prompto’s mouth. Before long Ignis feels Gladio climb up the bed on Noctis’s other side, and soon his big hand joins Prompto’s on the back of Ignis’s head, weighing him down. 

When Noctis climaxes, Ignis swallows around him, pulling off slowly to lick up the rest of the mess he made. Noctis’s hand never left his collar; the moment Ignis has swallowed the last drop of Noctis’s release, he feels himself tugged up to Noctis’s mouth. Prompto and Gladio both move aside for him.

Noctis doesn’t let go of his collar, doesn’t let Ignis move so much as a hair away from him, until he’s kissed him so thoroughly that Ignis is sure his tongue has run over every inch of his mouth. When he finally does release his grip, Ignis rests his forehead against Noctis’s. It’s good to breathe his air, for a little while. Gladio’s hand on his back, and Prompto’s leg thrown over the back of his, keep him tied to the ground.

“You taste good,” Noctis murmurs.

Ignis laughs breathlessly. “I no doubt taste of you,” he says.

“Exactly.” Noctis tugs Ignis’s collar again, brushes his lips against Ignis’s. “You were good for me.”

Ignis feels the blush start somewhere below his chest; by the time it reaches his face, he's burning hot, but Noctis gives him that smug half-smile and somehow, he doesn’t mind at all.

“Okay. Their turn,” Noctis tells him. Ignis cannot help but lean down once again to kiss him, before he turns happily to the next task he has been set.


End file.
